


I love you like we're in the movies

by cicak



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, ISS Shenzhou, Michael Burnham is a virgin who can't drive, Mirror Universe, ash tyler proving his loyalty on his knees on the bridge, deus ex leggings, merry clitsmas, pretending not to be crazy for each other, punishment in theory but they both really want it in practice, the mirror universe made them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak
Summary: Loyalty must be demanded; Loyalty must be demonstrated.(aka: the mirror universe made them do it)





	I love you like we're in the movies

They’ve been here two days, and there have been three, albeit mostly half-hearted, attempts at a coup. For all they swore allegiance to her and spent an extended shift both metaphorically and literally licking her boots, Michael basically got one night off before she had to dodge a knife to the ribs as she washed her hands in the head and a pincer attack from both sides when she and Tyler return from Lunch.

The snivelling Lieutenant who supposedly masterminded it kneels before her now, his head bowed. There is a surprising softness to the back of his neck, a thick band of fat created by the unforgiving uniform, his pale skin soft, perfect for a knife.

It’s been barely two days and she’s already been here too long.

She puts her feet on his neck. Something in her wishes that the mirror universe had ridiculous stiletto heels, and she could stab him right there and then. The dominatrix look is practical here, the sexuality of pure power, not mere titillation. And she needs to be able to kick back more than to crush them between her heels.

“Take him to the brig” she says. “I hear an agonizer has become free” and Tyler acquiesces, face stony and appropriate, but heartbreaking all the same. They cannot exchange glances, cannot even attempt to break character. There is no place for tenderness, even in stolen moments.

Tyler goes, dragging the now openly sobbing Lieutenant out of her sight. 

He does not return for nearly an hour. 

When he does arrive, it is in shackles, looking a little beaten up and escorted by the head of security, a man looking smugger than anyone has any right to be in a universe like this.

“Captain Burnham, I regret to say I caught your guard attempting to access your personal files.”

He is familiar, this brute, wearing something that could be the face of Chief Petty Officer Murad, the middle aged security chief from the Shenzhou. She didn’t recognise him at first, without his broad smile. Her brain supplied the fact that in her universe, his wife and child met him at every shore leave, no matter how short or remote the liberty point was. She hoped they didn’t exist here. 

“How did you catch him?” she snaps, drawing her phaser in a smooth motion that has become all too familiar now. “My personal files are only accessible in my quarters or in my ready room, and I just cannot recall ordering you into either of those places. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Tyler has his own orders that he has no obligation to tell you about. So really, it is you who should be frogmarched to me in shackles. Release him at once, and report to the brig. I trust you know the way by now.”

Tyler stands in front of her, the shackles removed. There is a hushed silence on the bridge, with the crew waiting for what she is going to do. How she is going to deal with this uncertain situation, a potential disloyalty right in the heart of the monster.

Michael squares her shoulders in her chair, and crosses her legs. She can feel Tyler looking at them, distracted in a way he should not be. She stands up instead, the raised dias making her eye to eye with him.

“Your loyalty is only to me. You should know by now that that trumps everything. Did you give them reason to doubt your loyalty to me? Swear yourself, now. Prove that you are still loyal, or I will take you to the brig myself.”

She sees the words on his lips, and is terrified for a moment that he is going to be himself, and say sorry. Terrans do not apologise, and the memory obviously returns to him, and yet it is still a shock when Tyler drops gracefully but heavily to his knees before her. 

* * *

Michael had blushed, despite herself, when Saru had shown her and Tilly how the thick, constricting leggings open. Practical, really, with how tight they are, and with all the heavy metal hardware that went over them. The fastener is secure, unless you want it to open. You have to work against the stretch, disengage the weft to release the warp. It does back up with a gentle tug, but to get it open, you generally have to want it to.

Tilly had made a wisecrack, trying out the crude words of her alter ego that fit awkwardly in her sweet mouth, and Saru had pulled the maiden-aunt face he used to pull all the time in happier days on the Shenzhou when the bridge got a little bawdy. 

All that potential lost, all caught in this carnival mirror of a place.

Now, as she sits back down in her chair, there’s the memory of beautiful Ash, the way he’d kissed her face, smiled with tears in his eyes the night before, pressed her into sheets that are too soft to be regulation, the kind of luxury that a captain takes as a perk. He, here, would be a perk. But the night before, they’d kissed and been pressed against each other in their tight, evil uniforms, but ultimately he had left with them both still locked inside. 

“I want you” he’d said, he’d pleaded against her mouth, there in the captain’s bed. “I want you so much, let me show you how much, you don’t have to do anything, I just want to show you how good I can be for you.” 

But she was tired, then. The weight of the collar was enough, let alone the weight of responsibility, of having to act the role of queen bitch of the universe, flex muscles of power and protocol that sorrow and self-hatred had wasted away, and she didn’t want that, that special, strange experience, the one she had always intended to get round to having, once whatever the human version of the mating urge came to her, the one she can feel now pooling in her back teeth and down her spine and _there_.

But now, he’s kneeling there, forced by circumstance and the twisted universe and she cannot say what she wants with her words, which is that she wants him, has wanted him almost from that first day, respected him, admired him, thought the universe of him. That she also wants this. Not just that she wants his mouth on her, or more, she wanted this as well, wants fealty, wants loyalty, wants an audience to witness so that it isn’t Specialist Burnham fumbling her way in the dark with a beautiful boy too damaged to care, but it is this queen bitch of the universe, the Captain she’ll never be, she’s the one who gets to have this, to have everything she ever wanted.

She reaches down and undoes the fastener between her legs, the seams parting with a whisper that echoes off the Shenzhou’s devastatingly familiar walls. 

There is no room beneath the leggings for modesty, and so she feels the environmentals before anything else - and even though she has modesty behind his strong back and shiny, unkempt hair, her devoted minions can only see her face, see the sneer she keeps plastered there for their benefit, there’s nothing between her and Ash now. 

He surprises her by sliding his hands up her thighs, pulling her hips forward slightly, and then there’s a moment of just warmth, humidity, like before a summer storm, before he puts his whole mouth against her, all at once, and she feels the vibration of his vocalisation, and she realises that he is moaning, he has moaned against her for no one to hear but her, that soundwave that travels up her pelvis and her skeleton to her inner ear and then into her brain that tells her that it’ll be okay. His tongue is soft and wide against her folds, and she feels swollen and wet and exposed and so turned on suddenly she gets dizzy. There’s people nearby who are shades of old friends, people who would never, ever think she would do this, but it’s new universe, and part of the structure of the ship, of course it is, it has to be, there’s no other reason he would be doing this right now, it’s all within SOP, they cannot give the game away, but then he...burrows, that’s the only word for the way he gets his face deeper, gets between her folds and gets his lips around her clit and sucks, then licks down, around her opening, which was when she realised that she wanted more, that she needed more, and her hands go into his hair and she rubs up against his mouth like she’s needy and greedy, and really, the game would be up if this was supposed to be for show, but why would the Captain do this if she didn’t get pleasure out of it?

She’s panting, slightly, trying not to look like this is the first time someone has got on his knees for her, slid his big hands up her thighs to hold her open so he can get right in there, get his tongue inside her and rub the tip of his nose against her clit so softly, so slowly, focused entirely on her pleasure in a way she can’t predict. She’s no expert, but he has to be good at this, because if he isn’t, she might die at the real thing.

She feels the shake in her thighs and the over-sensitive cresting wave a moment before she comes, her thighs clamping shut to hold his face right there, right in place for her, her hips moving as the wave of orgasm crests over her, over him, over everyone looking.

When she opens her eyes, he is looking right at her, honest and smiling slightly. His eyes are big, his lips wet, and, that non-regulation beard that only Lorca can tell him not to wear (but that scuttlebutt says the Captain likes) is sticky-wet, a fine dew coating the hairs, viscous and telling.

He strokes the seams of her leggings, closing her off to the world, before he gets up, and salutes her. He looks obscene, the long, solid line of his erection tucked carefully along his hip bone, pointing towards the holster. 

He doesn’t break eye contact, and so it is on her to stand, to smooth his hair, and declare that he is loyal, that anyone who challenges his loyalty will end up dead. 

He takes his place standing behind her right shoulder, still dripping with loyalty for all to see. 

The sound of the bridge rises again, and from the science station, a PADD is handed to her, with another list of heinous acts to authorise, the reality of the mission comes crashing back into place.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even think I shipped this, but then this happened, so uh, I guess I do.  
> Title is from No Country by the Jezabels.  
> Come scream at the disco with me at [cicaklah.tumblr.com](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com)


End file.
